When Occam cut himself while shaving,
the razor being nice and sharp,
though wasn't prone to misbehaving,
you would have needed a loud harp
to mask the constant stream of curses,
in erudite, prim Latin verses
that came from the frustrated monk,
the kind he wouldn't utter drunk.
There's a straightforward explanation:
be you philosopher or king,
a minor irritant might bring
a call for hellfire and damnation.
No need to wonder why that's so,
since if it happens, you will know.
a hungry calf laps up the milk
that Hera spilled across the dark
as centaurs frolic with their ilk
Orion following his mark
our minds will play connect the dots
to cover distances so vast
that light is bound to change its spots
and when it does arrive at last
its source may not be lit at all
a glowing ember into ash
or by its starry protocol
exploded, burned up in a flash
when searching for a way to beat
the limits posed by dark and light
get on your porch and take a seat
and look up at the sky at night
The elephant that isn't in the room,
a rare, indeed extraordinary beast,
more often, it is safer to assume,
appearing when it is expected least.
Tries managing, unwanted, through the doors,
while everyone pretends it isn't there,
since noticing the damage to the floors,
like saying that the emperor is bare,
primarily reveals a lack of manners,
particular to those of modest wisdom,
unseasoned in the ways of lords and banners,
still unaware of needing to appease them,
and wont to say: but surely, there it stands!
Sophisticates will offer: it depends.
sea demands to be seen
in perpetual motion
my eyes drawn to the scene
here's a drop in the ocean
try to follow its path
as it's swept by the current
they have figured the math
but maths simply aren't
persuasive at all
not for aquamarine
I am out for a stroll
sea demands to be seen
Our loneliness: for surely we all share
this terrible, intractable affliction;
to make its burden easier to bear,
for some of us the answer is addiction,
while others will surround themselves with friends
and claim that they are wholly unaffected;
for those it seems the party never ends --
despair will strike when it is least expected.
But some will seek this doleful, wistful state,
preferring their own thoughts as a companion.
They seek to mold, to contour, to create --
their isolation like the deepest canyon,
or loneliest of islands in the ocean,
the water deep but drained of all emotion.
A subject liked to argue with his verbs,
accusing them of very little action,
which, he insisted, troubles and disturbs,
while offering the inverse of attraction.
The verbs confessed that they were at a loss,
suggesting that he study up on grammar
but he persisted (after all, the boss)
and threatened them with long stays in the slammer.
To settle things, they've chosen arbitration,
conjunctions serving as both judge and jury,
though adverbs did articulate frustration,
if short of what a noun would label fury.
The subject, smugly, offered no repentance.
No choice then, for the court, but read the sentence.
As history's rewritten by the whiners
to fit into a perishable mold,
ostensibly to benefit the minors
who Peter Pan like, aren't growing old --
except that Peter Pan must be rewritten,
its sense and sensibility offend,
so those that are twice shy though never bitten
can be assured, when skipping to the end,
the nasty alligator is a vegan,
and time does not expire for Captain Hook,
whose pistol, it turns out, was just a pea gun.
In summary, a safer, better book.
Will history, revisited, repeat?
Rewritten, it is always incomplete.
I asked a graceful heron: would you rather
that death came in midflight, out of the blue?
Before the years have had their chance to gather --
each sunrise is as fresh as morning dew,
a jumping frog still sends a thrill of pleasure,
and standing on one leg maintains its charm;
your pointy beak adept at finding treasure
and mighty wings that keep you out of harm
with but a single flap of quill and feather?
Or is old age a better way to die,
your skin an older, thinner brand of leather,
the wings no longer strong enough to fly?
So wise, the heron, but he wouldn't say.
Just nodded a goodbye. Then flew away.
a butterfly wings
are they cause or effect
uncertainty won't let us measure
like so many things
that are hard to detect
predicting a moment to treasure
a flap, there she goes
she is lighter than air
and somewhere a storm gets to brewing
she caused it? who knows
but I can't help but stare
and wonder if it's all her doing
With judgement day about to be announced
both hell and heaven getting slightly nervous,
as neither one's expecting to be trounced,
and both submitted rave reviews for service.
The demons, prone to chewing on their nails --
those long enough to pierce for crucifixion --
relying on the their long prehensile tails
to balance, practice ailment and affliction.
Celestials, on the other hand, hosanna,
but stumble on occasion, even stammer,
accompanied by bagpipe and piano --
it's soulful, although lacking certain glamor.
The verdict should be coming, any minute.
And then a sequel. Hoping to be in it.
Inevitable said to Preordained:
beg pardon, but we're not the same at all.
Though this may color our relations strained,
you prophesy, preparing for the fall,
where's I am more so focused on effect,
the cause but an assumption in my work,
whose output is about as you'd expect,
and worthy of an understanding smirk,
that, rather than a shaking, angry fist.
Here Preordained objected with this point:
(in truth she could have given a whole list)
Inevitable, your nose out of joint.
Our means may differ, but our goals the same.
Attempt, when something happens, to lay blame.
A fortune cookie: dubious reward
for getting through some egg rolls and lo mein.
Such fortune surely hates to be ignored.
How else would one endeavor to explain
the fervor with which greedy, lusty hands
will grab and crush each hardened, crusty shell,
in search of wisdom no one understands,
a cryptic and exotic ancient spell,
and showing off, will share it with a neighbor,
the latter, nodding knowingly, like so,
as though the promised future needs no labor,
will check it, food already packed to go,
then throw it out, abandoned and forsaken.
Of fortunes, no offense, but none were taken.